


Zone Out

by Tarlan



Category: Navy SEALs (1990)
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-22
Updated: 2009-02-22
Packaged: 2017-10-18 16:55:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/191108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The morphine makes his thoughts drift, zoning out to where he wants to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Zone Out

**Author's Note:**

> For Do... Lamaudite. I promised you a CURRAN fic, and what better time to deliver than now.... HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

The music was loud but it couldn't drown out the memories that swam through Curran as he drank a silent toast to Bill Graham. When Hawkins raised his glass in a loud toast, something inside Curran snapped but years of training kicked in just as fast, overpowering the alcohol-fueled anger that flooded through his veins. He pushed away from the bar and made for the exit, not wanting a confrontation in front of the team.

He didn't expect to be followed out into the parking lot by Hawkins and turned angrily because Hawkins had no right to feel indignant at being slighted in the bar. Bill was dead and that might not have been the case if Hawkins had not gone glory seeking instead of holding his position. Curran knew he should have reported Hawkins; knew he should have had him thrown off the team as a liability. His trust in Hawkins to watch his back had been dented and none of them could afford that in their line of work; yet he couldn't do it. There was still a spark of trust held deep within their friendship that Curran wanted desperately to fan back into a stronger flame, to drive back the shadows haunting him since Graham's death.

He walked away, unwilling to share any more of his pain today, while Hawkins' words floating behind him. "I fucked up and he's gone, and there's not a damned thing I can do about it!"

Responsibility. Trust. All fucked up, but Hawkins was wrong as there was something he could do about it. He could learn from his mistakes. They both could learn from this.

***

Beirut was a war zone, a city under siege from within, torn apart by different religious and political factions until there was barely a building that didn't bear the scars of bombs or bullets. They'd fulfilled their objective to destroy the missiles but the cost had been high. Dane was dead and so was Rexer, and now they were in the water having missed the rendezvous with the sub.

Safe was not a word Curran would use to describe their precarious position, though the fog of morphine made it hard for him to focus on what they should do next. All he knew was that they couldn't stay out here in the sea for too long, or rather that *he* couldn't stay out here too long, not with the belly and thigh wounds leaking his life's blood into the water. There was always the danger that the blood would attract the Sand sharks that were known to cruise the western coast of the Mediterranean. Curran tried to hold onto the conversation going on around him, feeling a little giggly at various remarks but also grateful that no one was panicked over having been left behind. This was something they had all been trained to deal with but he couldn't help zoning out, with his thoughts slipping back into memories of Claire that last morning, recalling her sleepy smile before she realized he was dressed in combat fatigues.

"So, how long do we wait," Hawkins stated lightly and Curran felt another bubble of laughter bursting inside him, aware that he'd zoned out again. A tiny part of him knew it wouldn't be such a laughing matter once the morphine started to wear off and infection set in. By then he would be wishing Hawkins had blown him up along with the missiles.

The sudden surge of water caught him by surprise but Leary held onto him on one side, Hawkins on the other as the conning tower broke the surface of the water almost from below them, the upsurge sweeping them off the rising deck. Sailors were scampering out of hatches and lowering the rescue ladders. Leary, Hawkins and Ramos kicked hard towards the sub, dragging Curran with them, their flippered feet powering their strokes and bringing them into reach within a minute. Curran could only be grateful for the morphine dulling the diamond edge of hard pain as he was hauled from the water and manhandled across the deck before being lowered through the hatch. Too well trained, he refused to give into the darkness clawing at the edge of his vision, determined to hold onto consciousness until he was certain what remained of his team was safe. In the end, he had little choice, feeling the tiny sting of another injection that sent him spiraling into the darkness.

When he came around, the overhead lights were dim but Curran recognized the clean, antiseptic smell of a Sick Bay. Movement in the small room had him turning his head to see Hawkins asleep in a chair in the corner with his feet up on the desk.

"Dale?"

Dark eyes opened instantly, feet swinging off the desk as Hawkins jumped to his feet and took the few steps across the small room to where Curran lay.

"Hey, boss. Was starting to wonder if you planned to sleep all the way back to base."

"Where are we?"

"Almost at La Maddalena. They're holding up a transport back to the States for us."

Curran nodded, glad they wouldn't be hanging around in Sardinia for too long. He wanted to get back to home base, and more importantly, back to Claire. He recalled how her sleepy smile had faded as worry filled her dark eyes. He remembered holding her tight one last time before heading out on this mission, leaving her behind in his bed. He hoped she would wait around for him to return, perhaps give them a chance to make something of the relationship they had forged through necessity at first; a relationship that had grown into something bigger, something better. He liked her. He really liked her.

"Hey? You still in there?"

He blinked and tried to focus on Hawkins' worried face but his eyelids were so heavy.

The drugs in his system made him slip in and out so Curran wasn't too surprised to wake up in a different place that made him think instantly of the Naval Medical Center in Bethesda. He blinked several times, the heaviness of anesthesia pulling at his mind while the weight of bandages pressed down on his stomach and limbs.

"James?"

He turned his head, looking in the direction of the soft voice. Curran held his breath in hope, only releasing it in a ragged sigh of relief as Claire squeezed his fingers gently. Perhaps it was a euphoria induced by the drugs but he couldn't stop smiling as her beautiful face came into focus.

"Hey," he stated softly, and her answering smile chased away the remaining shadows of Beirut.

END


End file.
